Minds of the Mindless
by Megan Ladd
Summary: Topher, confused and intrigued by the minds of dolls one in particular decides to imprint a doll with skills in psychology/anthropology/etc... without Adelle's say-so...


Topher yawned in boredom, monitoring vitals in a half-daze. Sierra's heart beat had been on the fritz for a while, but she was on a romantic engagement-- it wasn't really unprecedented. He contemplated his juice box, empty, resting purposelessly on the desk. Ivy wasn't around to take care of it; if he wanted it gone, he'd have to throw it away himself. He sighed, rising to his feet and walking over to the trash bin, hesitating for a moment before he dropped it in. He'd thought he'd heard-- but of course, it must have been one of the dolls wandering in. Probably Echo, she had a troubling attachment to the place. it would have fascinated him, no doubt, several months ago. But the tedium had gotten to him, the seeming pattern recognition and deep, internal memory had lost his interest, and become something of great inconsequence. Like a juice box... he could really go for another juice box... where the hell was Ivy? He dropped the empty box and turned back to his desk. He jumped at the sight of Dr. Saunders, who was standing in front of the door, holding a clipboard, avoiding eye contact. His hand reached to the back of his head, which he scratched without thinking, "Dr. Saunders," he greeted uncomfortably.

"Hello, Topher. I'm here to ask what imprint you're giving Victor," she responded, keeping her voice entirely empty of emotion; she could have been a doll. Well, she _was_ a doll. She could have been in her blank-state.

"Uh... imprint? Victor?" Topher asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Why was she interested in that? The scar-face kinship, he supposed.

"Yes, imprint, Victor."

"Uh, probably a handler, staff member of some sort. Might be able to fix him up pretty-pretty. The jury's out against the attic, which I guess was your real question. So, that's it. Bye now." He gave a quick wave of his hand, a dismissal. It was hard for him to be around her, especially after she knew. It was hard to forget that she wasn't the girl he knew. But sometimes... sometimes, defying all science, he'd look at her, and, though it wouldn't be much, the girl he knew would shine through.

Saunders regarded him coldly for a moment before she turned and walked away. He stood there alone for a minute, breathing out a long sigh. One of the monitors began beeping again, but he ignored it. If he cried wolf every time a client's fantasy became fantastical, he'd have a sore throat by the end of the day. His hand reached to his face, his fingers reaching to rub his temples soothingly. He opened his eyes and felt a stab of annoyance. Wasn't this supposed to be _his_ area? Echo walked in, looking sort of dazed. Perhaps it would be a good time for him to invest in a door, he decided, one that shut automatically.

"Hello, Echo," he muttered, not bothering to sound soothing, "what are you doing here?"

"Dr. Saunders is nice," she commented, pointing through the door, to where Topher guessed Saunders had gone.

"Uh, right. Say, how about you go see her now?"

Echo paused, her eyebrows furrowing, "I would like to stay here..." she answered slowly. Topher resisted the urge to childishly roll his eyes, but really, he didn't have the patience to deal with dolls.

"Why is that? There are many nice not-here places."

She looked puzzled for a moment, as if she didn't understand the question. Which was, of course, conceivable. "I don't know."

Ah, the complex mind of a doll. Fascinating for an anthropologist, somewhat irritating for a computer wiz. Well... he was becoming slightly interested. Why was it that some dolls behaved even the smallest bit different from each other? The question of a soul had originally struck him as laughable, but now... huh. He'd not really thought about it. Not that he placed a good deal of respect in psychologists and the like, beyond the functions of the actual brain he'd not really bothered to grasp such in-depth understanding of people. He didn't really care for people, and the feeling was mutual. It would be a good experience... a good study, and DeWitt would have to agree, to have a doll do some kind of psycho-analyses of a sort on the others. What better way to fix some of the more unorthodox dolls? Especially seeing as Dr. Saunders' plan had not yielded any results. Although, there was no real reason to risk the wrath of DeWitt for a passing interest. An image of Dr. Saunders passed through his mind, and he blinked, shaking his head. Echo was staring at him, a permanently confused expression on her face.

"Echo... would you like a treatment?"

She smiled, "Yes, thank you." Echo walked slowly over to the chair, sitting down and lying back. "I'm going to fall asleep for a little while..."


End file.
